Luna sighed. It was those dreams again, she knew. The ones they had thought his subconscious had gotten over. She gently shook him. "Draco. Draco, wake up."
"Huh?" Draco's eyes flew open. He was clutching his pillow and breathing quite heavily. Luna got up and opened the window, letting in the icy chill. By the time she crawled back into their bed, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, face buried into his hands. Moonlight made his white-blonde hair glow.
Luna grasped his shoulders. "Draco...are you laughing?" she whispered tentatively.
He whipped his head around and glared at her, blinking rapidly. "I'm crying, you twat." He hurriedly wiped away the tears contaminating his face and stared at his hands in disgust. "I was a puppet. Loads of people...my fault..." he murmured. "They know it too. They came back to torment me in my sleep again."
"-even you were there," said Draco, looking pale. "You screamed stuff at me, said I didn't do a damn thing when you were stuck in my basement for three months. And-and you're right." His head fell into her lap, shoulders trembling violently, and his arms encased her tightly and he was saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry in cracked whispers while Luna cradled him like a child. "Everyone makes mistakes," she said quietly. "I don"t blame you Draco, you were doing it on orders from Voldemort and trying to keep your family safe. It's not good to dwell on the past, really. Those dreams of yours are just a personification of your guilt. It shows you have a conscience. It shows that you're a good person."
"I want to believe that," said Draco, his voice muffled from pressing his face into the flannel of Luna's nightgown. Luna stroked his head. She looked at the harmless gray blot on his left forearm and kissed it softly. "You will."